Blind as a Post
by Xenophobic Doll
Summary: Severus Snape turns himself into a bedpost to spy on Professor McGonagal and screams Eww! 2nd Chapter up. Snape turns into Malfoys cloak and sees something.... disturbing
1. Default Chapter

Um.. ya, I was really tired and getting slap happy when I wrote this.  Its pretty damn stupid but by all means, let me know what you think.  I'd appreciate it. ~~ X. D.

Blind as a Post

            Severus Snape was in a delightful mood, well, for him anyway.  Most people would have found it chilling.    The Christmas feast, was of course, excellent, as was the wine and ale he helped himself too.  Later in his quarters, he'd sparked a bit of his favorite _herb_ (strictly for medicinal use, of course) and he soon found himself over come with giggles (Snape thought it was the giggles, the few students left in Hogwarts thought he was walking around snarling) and the _munchies_.  And, a few minutes ago, while on his way to the painting of fruit that opened to the kitchens, he'd been able to take a nice round twenty points off Gryffindor because one of the House's idiot children had been 'breathing wrong.'  Snape giggled (snarled), _what a fine day today has been_, he thought.  

            Snape came to a halt in front of the kitchen door.  He stood there, still musing about the great fortune cast upon him that day.  _I've even devised the perfect way to spy on Potter!_  Snape did a little, happy, monkey-dance of joy (Actually, his happy dance looked more like he was trying to hit something in the head with an axe, but who are we to judge?).  He giggled (snarled) gleefully.  _People think my only genius lay with potion making, but are they ever wrong! _Snape straightened up and puffed out his chest into a more genius-ly posture.  _I have invented the perfect Charm!  I will be able to transfigure myself into any object, and control my shape with my thoughts!_  This was actually quite an accomplishment, as it would really suck if Snape turned himself into a rock and got stuck that way (rocks can't very well hold a wand, now can they?).  _I'll be able to spy on Potter as much as I wish.  And, when he does something bad, as he will inevitably do, I can transform to my true self!  And he will be expelled!_  

            Finally remembering why he was there, Professor Snape extended one long, pale finger to tickle the pear.  The pear started to giggle and wiggle about before, with a distinct popping noise, it turned into a large, green door handle.  Snape gave it a yank, opened it, and stepped inside the kitchens.  Immediately, about thirty house-elves squeaked "Master Snape!", and hurried over to help him with anything he desired.

            "I require some of those delicious custard tarts."

            The tea-towel clad house-elves bowed and backed away before scurrying about to do their newly assigned task.

            Snape heard a faint _pop_!  He looked around and found himself staring at a beautifully carved bedpost that was leaning against an out-of-the-way wall.  He walked over to it and gave it a closer look.  It was darkly varnished and entwined with carved, wooden, inset beads.

            "You elf, what is this?"

            The elf bowed nervously, "Master Snape, that is being a bedpost, sir."

            "Elf, I know that, whose bed post is it?"

            "It is being Mistress McGonagall's bedpost, sir," the house-elf squeaked, "we is to be delivering it tonight sir, before Mistress McGonagall is going to bed, sir!"

            "Why not Filch?"

            "We is being asked to take it, sir, because the bedpost is being very heavy sir, and easier for us to be using magic on."

            Snape thought, _I'm sure it would be far more truthful to say McGonagall didn't want Filch in her rooms_, but all he said to the elf was, "Very well, dismissed."

            Snape watched as the elf scurried away.  _Hmm... This could be interesting._

            When the house-elves returned with Snape's food, he was nowhere to be found.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­___________________

            Being a bedpost is boring, Snape decided.  He sat there in the kitchens for ages, watching the elves, and then finally, he was moved to McGonagall's quarters.  They were empty.  He dozed off for awhile, until he was awoken by a slight shake of the bed.

            Minerva had finally come to bed.  Her face looked as prim and proper as ever, but that's where it ended.  She was dressed in a red Santa elf's dress with white fur trim, green fishnet stockings, and tiny gold bells adorned every inch of her.  Snape blinked his eyes (which now looked like the wooden beads inlaid into the post), but the vision of Minerva didn't change or clear.  _Bad shit!  I smoked some reallllllllllly bad shit, thought Snape._

            "Minervaaaaaa."

            The muffled voice seemed to be coming through the door.  McGonagall tapped herself with her wand and suddenly, the tiny gold bells began lighting up and playing, "I Saw Mommy Kissin' Santa Claus."

            "Minervaaaaaaaaaaaa."

            _Oh no, thought Snape, __it couldn't be-_

            Dumbledore walked through the bedroom door.  McGonagall beamed at the older man.

            "What kept you Albus?"

            Dumbledore stepped out of his shoes, and walked around to the side of the bed, right into Snape's line of vision.  "I got an owl from the Ministry, darling, nothing to worry about."  Dumbledore slid his hands under his long silvery beard and started undoing the fastenings on his robes.  Dumbledore shrugged and his robes fell to the floor.

            Snape stared at Dumbledore in all of his naked glory.  _MY EYES!!!  OH, MOTHER OF __PEARL__, MY EYES!  THEY BURRRRNNN!! Luckily for Snape, he had no mouth; otherwise he would have let out a sissy scream to shatter glass.  As it was, his eyes bugged out so far they fell out of the bedpost and rolled around on the floor.  The view from the floor was even worse (as you might imagine), and Snape saw each and every wrinkle in bold relief.  _NO MERE MORTAL EYES CAN HANDLE THIS!  SURELY, I MUST BE BLIND!  MY RETINAS ARE BURNING, I CAN FEEL IT!!!!!_  _

            Dumbledore bent over (causing Snape to silently scream _EWWWWWWWW!!_) and picked up the two 'beads' that had fallen from the post.  "You should complain about this shoddy workmanship, Minerva."  He then shoved Snape's eyes back into their 'sockets' backwards.

            It took Snape quite awhile to get his eyes straightened out.  He couldn't use magic to do it because it would alert Dumbledore and McGonagall, so he moved them this way and that until they were finally positioned properly.  When his eyes focused, the first thing he saw was Dumbledore's naked butt bouncing up and down.  Snape nearly had a heart-attack.  He snapped his eyes shut quickly, before his lenses could warp even more.  After what seemed like an eternity, the noise quieted down and the bed stopped creaking.  _Thank God, _thought Snape, _Now, either he will leave, and she will sleep so I can get the hell gone from here, or he will stay and they will BOTH sleep so I can get the hell gone from here.  If I can get out of here unnoticed, and SOON, Lord I will change!  I won't smoke weed anymore, and if I do I'll give up the lie about it being medicinal.  I swear!  I won't take points off Gryffindor for no reason!  Wait, yeah I will, but I swear I'll be nicer about it!  _

"Shall we again, Minerva?"

            McGonagall giggled girlishly, "Well go on then, Albus."

            Snape lost his head.  _Again???  How can they again?  Dumbledore has to be like, eighty or something!  I can't take it again!!  Without realizing what he'd done, Snape turned back into his normal self, and stood there on the edge of the bed rail, feet together trying to balance him, and arms over his head supporting one corner of the bed's canopy. _

            Looking over Dumbledore's shoulder, Minerva cried, "SEVERUS!!"

            Snape screamed like a girl, lost his balance and fell on the floor.

            Looking confused, Dumbledore stood up, scowling.  "Severus what are you DOING in here?"

            Snape couldn't bear to look at Dumbledore; his eyes had suffered enough, so he stared at the floor and mumbled, "Nothing."

            "That's ALL you have to say??"  Dumbledore was in a towering rage.

            "For heaven's sake man, put on some clothes!" cried Snape.

            For her part, McGonagall was hiding underneath the covers.  "Severus Snape, I CANNOT believe you!"

            "You cannot believe _me_??  I can't believe YOU!  YOU turned _me down to be with Albus???"_

            Dumbledore finally moved to get his robes, allowing Snape to get a good look at McGonagall's face.  Her lips were a thin line and she was shaking with fury.  "Professor Snape, at least Albus is well aware of the benefits of shampoo, I strongly suggest YOU look into them."

            Snape got to his feet.  "Fine.  Just fine!"

            "Severus," Dumbledore said in a severe tone, "leave.  We will discuss your unbecoming behavior later."

            With that, Snape gathered his tattered dignity, turned toward the door, and ran.


	2. A Cloak in the Hand

AUTHOR'S NOTE*****I guess this could jokingly be referred to as a 'chapter' but either way, it's the second part of Blind as a Post.  I'm actually typing this note BEFORE the story, and Ima tell ya now, I got no CLUE where this is gonna go.  Anyway, Ima rate it PG-13 cuz I have a potty-mouth so I'm sure I'll cuss….. Thanks for the reviews on Post, and ty to the one person that alleviated my ignorance as to character ages.

A Cloak in the Hand

            Severus Snape was pouting.  He'd gotten into soooo much trouble for that little bedpost fiasco. What's worse is that Dumbledore had taken away his medicinal happy smoke.  Snape had tried hard and valiantly to change Dumbledore's mind on that decision.

            "But Albus!  Think of the children!  Think of how much nicer I am to them after I have had my dose of medicinal herb!"

            "Severus, cannabis makes you no nicer; it only makes you lack proper judgment.  I'll have no more of it."

            That had been the end of that.  And Dumbledore was wrong; it did make him nicer, sorta.  Snape rested his elbows on the desk, his face between his hands, puffed out his lower lip, and scuffed the bottoms of his dragon-hide boots along the stone floor of his office.  He sat there for a few minutes, pouting more, until instantly his head lifted and a smile (snarl) found his face.  His eyes darted to the closet.

            In an instant, he'd crossed the room, whipped out his wand, and magically opened the door.  And there it stood, in all of its infinite glory.  His bootleg, moonshine vat!  He rubbed his hands together, briskly, and threw off the lid.  "I have made firewater!" he yelled to no one in particular before shoving his whole head in the vat (bet that stung) and sucking down his brew as fast as he could.  

            Snape immediately went into convulsions.  He lay on the floor twitching and spazzing for a few seconds before staggering to his feet.  "WOOOOOOO-BOY!!!" he yelled, "That's some good shit right there!" (See, I cussed.) (And where the hell did Snape suddenly get that southern accent from, hmmm?)  Snape took a few more swigs from the vat, followed by more twitching and spazzing, until he was thoroughly sloshed.  He then staggered back to his desk.  He tried sitting on the corner of it, but missed and fell on the floor instead.  _Damn Potter!, he thought, __it's his fault I fell on the floor!  I have to get revenge on Potter!  I know, my transfiguration charm.  But what should I turn into?  I know!  A set of Potter's robes!  Snape smiled (snarled) for a few minutes at the genius of his plan.  After all, even the great Harry Potter couldn't go marching around Hogwarts without any robes on, could he?  By this time, Snape was drunkenly pacing the room in anticipation.  Then he had a terrible thought, _What if he farts while _I'M__ his robes?  Then he'll have farted on ME!  Snape started running (somewhat) around the room screaming, "GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"  It took him a minute to settle down, but once he did, he formulated his next brilliant plan.  He would become Potters cloak!_

            The fates evidently agreed with Professor Snape's plan.  As luck would have it, when Snape reached the great hall, all of the remaining students were hanging their wet, sopping cloaks over the fire to dry.  They'd just finished an inter-House snowball fight (everyone against the Slytherins).  Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken the brunt of the snowballs, and were sitting wrapped in blankets that Professor McGonagal conjured.  Snape had been faintly surprised when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle decided to stay for the Christmas Holidays, but Snape just figured that Malfoy was out to get revenge on Potter too, after all, Malfoy was such a good boy.  

            Snape made sure no one was paying attention, then went for a look at the cloaks.  They all looked the same!  He quickly checked to see if any of the student's names had been written in them.  No luck.  _Why can't parents write their child's name in their clothes anymore?  Snape's own mother had written his name in his underwear for him, and as a result, Snape had never lost a single pair.  Finally, Snape decided to be scientific about deciding which cloak he should be, and did "Ennie, Minnie, Miney, Mo".  He lost his place a few times, and had to start over, but finally he got down to one cloak._

_____________

            Being a cloak was almost as boring as being a bedpost.  The only bright side was that he got to hang by the nice warm fire, and he did get a little attention when he belched.  A couple of first years had been amazed by that, and Snape heard the little idiots run off babbling about how _they_ wanted a belching cloak.  

            Snape was happy when he was finally taken away from the fire, until he realized that Potter wasn't the one currently toting him away.  He was in the possession of none other than Draco Malfoy himself.  _Damn Potter for letting me choose the wrong cloak, thought Snape._

            Malfoy made his way to the Slytherin entrance, then walked to his dorm and threw his cloak (Snape) on the bed.  Crabbe and Goyle followed him, but they stood staring stupidly in the doorway before finally entering the dormitory.  Crabbe settled on Malfoy's bed, settling his bulk on Snape.  Malfoy went to admire himself in the mirror.

            _Ewwwwwwww, Crabbe's butt, thought Snape, _and it's stinky too!  Phew!  Merciful heaven!  I can't breathe!  Why am I such a butt magnet?  Why?!?__

Crabbe's butt started to itch.  REALLY bad, too!  But, he knew better than to just openly scratch it because Malfoy was always getting mad at him for doing something like that.  Malfoy said it made Crabbe look like he was raised in a barn.  So he just rubbed it on Malfoy's bed, really hard.  _Really hard._

            Snape began to pray.  _Oh Mary, Mother of Jebus, but that boy's ass is rank, if you will save me from the horror I swear I'll be good and yea though I may walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil but goddamn I fear that kid's hairy crack.  In the name of the Golden Calf, I pray.  Ohmmm.  Snape figured he'd gotten some of the prayer wrong, but decided that God would get the idea._

           At the mirror, Malfoy ran his hands over his greased-back blonde hair, and then turned to look at Crabbe and Goyle.  It was time to get rid of those two; he wanted to indulge in his secret passion.

            "Crabbe, Goyle, leave."

            The pair got up and shuffled out of the dormitory.  Snape decided God really had gotten the point, and he was grateful, although he now smelled as though he'd been attacked by a platoon of skunks.

            When his goons were gone, Malfoy locked the door with magic.  Now it was time!  Time for what you might ask?  Why, none other than old skool hip-hop!  With another wave of his wand, Muggle music filled the air of the dormitory.  

**_I put my hand upon your hip…_**

            Malfoy began swinging to the music.  He put his hand on his hip.

**_When I dip, you dip, we dip…_**

            Malfoy dipped, only to realize he couldn't get back up.  To save face, he put both of his hands on the floor, leaned forward, and straightened up his legs, so that he was completely bent over, then started shakin' his booty.  He wagged it from side to side.

            Snape watched in total amazement.  If he could've hid in embarrassment he would have.  This could never get out; it would embarrass the entire house of Slytherin.

            Malfoy started shakin' his butt from side to side, the started moving it in huge round motions, like a dog that didn't know how to wag its tail properly.

            If Snape had had a face, he would've covered it.  _As rich as his parents are, you'd think they could afford dancing lessons for the poor slob._

            Malfoy hurriedly jumped around, almost falling in the process, so that his back was to his full length mirror.  Once again, he put his hands on the floor, and started waggin' his bum for all to see.  He looked over his shoulder, so he could admire his professional dancing skills in the mirror.  He shouted encouragement to himself, "Shake it!  Don't break it!  Took my mama nine months to make it!"  The he reached around with one hand and started smacking his own booty.

            Snape's mood was getting dismal.  He really hated taking points off his own House, but he was beginning to think it would be worth taking a good round fifty points off of Malfoy, simply because Severus felt he was going to be scarred for life.

            Still shakin' and spankin' his booty while looking in the mirror, Malfoy started hollering out more shouts of encouragement from Malfoy to Malfoy.  "Work it girl!  Come on, now, work it girl!"

            _Bloody hell.  What is that boy screeching about now, there are no girls here, and Mr. Malfoy would do well to be eternally grateful for that.  How could such a talented boy be such a terrible dancer?  The answer suddenly came to Snape.  __Potter!  It must be Potter!  He made me fall down, and he made Malfoy a terrible dancer so he'd never ever get a date!  I must have revenge!  With a soft _pop_ Snape returned to his normal self.  Malfoy was so engrossed in his own captivating image that he didn't even notice his Housemaster standing before him._

            "Mr. Malfoy."

            Malfoy looked up and screamed.  "Professor Snape, I was just-"

            "Mr. Malfoy, I do hope you don't plan on a career in choreography because if you do you will most likely find yourself to be a fat, balding, forty year old virgin still living with Mommy."

            Malfoy waved his wand and the music stopped.  "Sir, are you going to tell-"

            "No, Malfoy.  I wouldn't disgrace our house that bad."

            Malfoy looked relieved.  "How did you get in here?"

            Snape gave him one of his patented evil stares.  "If I were to tell you that, I would have no choice but to kill you."  And with that, Snape swept out of the dormitory before Malfoy could start to think that Snape had been up to something creepy.

**** Well, there it is.  Hope ya liked it.  And, will Snape ever get his revenge on Potter for making him fall down go boom?  And for turning Malfoy into a bad dancer?  Eh, beats the hell outta me.  ~~X.D.


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